humanity
Humanity begins at home.
Ignorant People Say Things
Ignorant people say things, people say ignorant things, and ignorance, it would seem, makes experts of us all. One of the greatest lessons my mother ever taught me, with a great deal of persistence and grief, was “not everything that pops into your head needs to pop out of your mouth.” Words matter, how they are said, who they are said to, all matter, and nothing brought home that point more than being blessed with my youngest son, as an autism mom I have heard them all. All too often people find themselves hearing their own words before the realize they have actually said them, often wishing they had tasted them before they said them.
By Leslie Amanda4 years ago in Families
He Tried To Kill My Mother
At 42 years old I've decided to not be so quiet anymore. I've lived a life riddled with trauma from birth forward. I've had a YouTube channel for a few years with no aspirations of becoming a "YouTuber" or even a polished novice. More often than not, I discourse, entertain, contemplate and do interviews with no make-up, no ring lights, and in my pajamas. I'm real. I'm authentic and I have zero desire to be polished. What you see is what you get. However, there is always more than meets the eye. Am I right? I am a fairly well-adjusted, divorced, middle-aged, and currently overweight woman. I live in the Bible belt of the south in a state called, Tennessee. Been here all my life. A daughter of Appalachian pioneer women and a mother who has since the age of fourteen been addicted to narcotics and nerve pills. She was unable to raise me because of this. Her own voids led her down a path of what I can only believe was one of trying to find validation for the magic that is her. My super practical grandparents definitely had an indigo child on their hands with her. There was no avoiding the wildness that came along with her soul. A wild river runs through her. And just like all wild rivers they are both beautiful and devastating. I'm thankful to be in a place of retrospect where I've stepped more fully into my own magic. Magic I inherited from her. If not for the inner work I've done I wouldn't have the capacity to behold her beauty or even interact with her. I wish you could know her. See her. She is tiny. She stands at all of about five feet tall. Very dainty. How she has defended herself and survived the brutality of frequent domestic violence is a miracle. Her frame is delicate. Her smile exudes the obvious...that she is a shrine. Her journey is one that has circled the earth for millennia. She is no stranger to this realm. She is not a greenhorn. To me my mother embodies all of the feminine warriors we celebrate. She is Boudica. Her battle cry is feral and misunderstood. But, I promise you this. The echo of it has been found in me. Because of her fortitude runs in my blood. Alchemy is my essence. Resilience is the air that I breathe. And I bring the cause of the warrior woman into the consciousness of the collective. But, if you lived with me, worked with me, you would also see I've had a long history of panic disorder, generalized anxiety, sleep disorder and migraine. But, I'm still out here in this world moving my body through familiar and exotic areas. It's a miracle I think. My body. My mind. Heck, your body and mind!
By Cozett Dunn4 years ago in Families
The Book of Matthew
“We’re going to hunt ‘em down and get ‘em” — -George W. Bush during his address to the nation post 9/11 Iraq, Desert Storm, Operation Iraqi Freedom, the “Conflict in the Middle East” may just be words that fly by on a ticker at the bottom of your screen while you attempt another hill on your Peloton before getting your morning latte.
By Jessica Bugg4 years ago in Families
"...and the flicks and flashes are all you keep."
“Hope is the last thing ever lost.” --Italian proverb My mother told me I was conceived by the waterfalls. This place down south was unknown to my own memory, but now it is maybe the only place left unscathed by the monstrosities that unfold when man and earth go to war; it is maybe the only place I have left.
By Jade Mongo4 years ago in Families
Impossibly Cold
It was february, the trees were tall and crisp, they looked like something out of a fairytale, every snow flake glimmered like the tiniest cut diamonds when the glistened in the sun. The bark was aching from the cold- fifty below zero and it wasn’t letting up, the treees begged for mercy as they lightly swayed with the blistering cold breeze. Some days they wondered how they’d made it so far.
By Karyssa Wick4 years ago in Families
Beacon Of Light
Tonight was the darkest I’ve ever seen it, maybe because this night is a chance for me and my children to escape to freedom. I have been preparing myself since I made my decision to leave this God-forsaken prison. I refuse to have my children become another lost generation.
By Maria Gomez-Cruz4 years ago in Families
Moving To The Edge of the World
Wind flew down the main road, over the bridge and through the trees, past the open horse field, and down the road that looked much more like a 60-year-old veterinarian and farmer’s own personal driveway. This is what she and her family of four considered to themself as they turned down this road, driving past seven or so houses before finding the one at the end of the lane.
By Katie Lawrence4 years ago in Families
